Got To Get Out Of This City
by fififolle
Summary: How Carson Beckett ended up in Atlantis, from humble Scottish beginnings! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Author: Fififolle**

**Disclaimers**: I do not own these characters; this is written for fun, I make no money etc.

**Spoilers:** Eventually Rising in the last few chapters, I'll warn you first!

**A/N:** Did someone say they wanted more Carson back-story? Written then for Purpleyin, Admiral Lily and nightpheonix. I have attempted to give Carson an authentic Scottish environment and career path, drawn from my own similar age and background hehe!

It may help to understand that in the UK (this includes Scotland, where Beckett is from), most hospitals and therefore doctors work for the state, within the National Health Service (NHS) and there is an emphasis on sharing best practice across organisational boundaries. Of course, it may not help at all.

I intend no disrespect to Glasgow or it's wonderful NHS staff. Please forgive my fictional abuse. It's a pure dead brilliant city ;-).

**Summary:** How did Beckett come to be in Atlantis?

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Dr Carson Beckett laid down his pen, and rubbed his temples with his fingers. Being the Chief Surgeon in Atlantis was hard work. Minor injuries, major trauma, Wraith dissection, and even pharmaceutics from scratch. The long hours and mental stress were hard, and he sighed heavily. Being in this city was certainly a challenge. He felt privileged though, and he didn't want to change anything. Thinking about the pressures he was under made him realise that, ironically, it was the desire to leave a city that had led him on this path in the first place. He smiled to himself, knowing his spirit of adventure was still strong. Lifting his pen, he continued writing his patient notes.

**_Twelve years ago…_**

"I don't want to hear about it, Stuart!" Carson said gruffly.

"Carson, what's up with you? I thought you'd be interested." Stuart downed his coffee.

"I'm fed up hearing what's going on at the Royal! For heaven's sake, they're not the enemy!" Carson stabbed at his pasta.

"Keep your shirt on…" Stuart Hogg was also a Resident Senior House Officer at Glasgow Southern General Hospital. They were currently in rotation in Elderly Care. The nurses on those wards often swapped shifts at a similar hospital across the city, the Glasgow Royal Infirmary, and came back with stories 'from the other side'.

Glasgow's hospitals seemed to have a permanent air of competition. Personnel of all types, from medics to physiotherapists, porters to secretaries, fought for the best jobs, jumping from location to location, with each site vying for the best reputation. It was starting to grate on Carson's nerves. It made him question his priorities. What happened to patient needs? What happened to team spirit? Weren't we all working together in a National Health Service for lofty aims and noble goals? This city seemed to have lost all that, or at least, that's how it appeared to Carson. His senior colleagues just seemed to care about their careers. Carson was getting sick of it.

"I'll tell you something, Stuart." Carson's voice was low and harsh against the high-pitched chatter of the canteen.

Stuart knew that phrase could only signify something serious. He rolled his mug between his hands and listened to Carson.

"When I'm though this year, I'm not staying. Glasgow's not for me." Carson seemed sad, and his face was downcast.

Stuart was shocked. "What do you mean? You can't leave? Where else would you go?"

Carson shook his head in disbelief. He stood up, and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll see you later, Stuart. I've got discharges to do." Carson picked up his meal tray and headed out.

Stuart Hogg could only watch in puzzlement. What was Carson on about?

-

* * *

**A/N: **This fic starts slowly, but I promise it won't go on forever, perhaps a dozen short chapters, most written already. Hope you like this taster. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

Sorry the first chapter was so short. The 'journey' continues. Thanks for all the reviews. Thanks for the confidence to put it in Highlander Medic already, Dr Dredd, I hope it lives up to expectation, eventually!

The end of Helensburgh is pronounced "burra" just like Edinburgh.

Faslane is pronounced Faz-lane.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Carson alighted at the lower station, and began the long walk up the hill. There was a cold wind blowing off the Firth of Clyde. Incredibly for April, it wasn't raining. After he'd been walking for about ten minutes, he turned around and watched the waves scuttle along, white tips dancing. He breathed in the clean, chilled air, so distinct from the city assault on the senses. This was his home. He'd never felt part of the city, anyway. This was where he was from - Helensburgh, up the river.

Most of his university class were from Glasgow itself, staying at home while they studied. He did the same, but travelled just that bit farther, and it kept him apart a little. They would all go out together in the evenings, but he would be here, needing to get the last train, as if he might turn into a pumpkin if he didn't catch it. They had all taken up jobs around the city, and nothing seemed to have changed much. Now, he welcomed the sight of this town, knowing a relaxing weekend would distance him from the dogfight of his work.

He passed Hill House on the last leg of his walk. The work of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, Carson had always loved the clean lines, colours and style decades ahead of its time. Every time he saw it, it made him feel like he belonged.

He dumped his bag on the step and fished out his keys. His mother had the door open before he could pick out the right one, and threw her arms around him.

"Carson! My wee darling! Come away in, you must be gasping!" She fussed round him, always so happy to have her 'wee lad' home.

"You're right, mum. I would murder for a cup of tea." Carson grinned. He loved his home, and his parents. His heart gave a lurch as he thought about what he would have to tell them.

His mother led him into the kitchen, where his father was sat at the table. Magnus Beckett rose and gave his only son a strong hug.

"How are you, Carson? Good week?"

The younger Beckett smiled thinly. "Fine, dad. I'm tired, though."

Mary Beckett handed a cup of tea to her son. "You get that down you, Carson. Dinner's almost ready."

Over the meal, Carson broached the subject. "I've been thinking about what I want to do, you know, when I've finished this year."

Magnus and Mary exchanged glances. "Go, on, son," encouraged his father.

"I'm not sure what I want to do, but I know I don't want to work in Glasgow." Carson felt as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.

"Where would you go?" Magnus asked.

"Glasgow isn't what I thought it would be. What about Edinburgh? Or Dundee? Or London?"

The mention of the far-off capital was enough to make his mother gasp in horror. The reaction was not lost on Carson.

"It's not the end of the world, mum. Lots of people move away." Carson just couldn't think of anyone, except of course the ones who'd joined the navy.

Magnus Beckett cleared his throat. "Well, son, just think hard when you're making your choices. We just want you to be happy." He looked at his wife, and nodded reassuringly.

"It's not for months yet. I'll just have to see what comes along." Carson made light and smiled. "So, what's been happening round here?"

His parents visibly relaxed as they consciously pushed away the thought that their son might soon be more than a stone's throw from them. His father spoke, "They arrested some of the protesters the other day. It's the usual. Crack down before the summer season." Magnus was talking about the peace camp near the naval base along the coast, Faslane. It was the home of the British nuclear submarines, and a magnet for anti-nuclear protesters. There was a permanent camp that had been there ever since Carson could remember, but it rarely made the headlines now. Magnus Beckett ran an engineering company that, like many other businesses in the area, depended on the naval base for survival. Life for this town had always been a delicate balance of morals and necessity.

The family chit chat veered into innocuous topics, and Carson found himself more comfortable than he had been for a while. And yet…he knew he still had to find his path.

The next morning, Carson asked to borrow the family car. He had an idea where he would like to begin his quest. His mother handed over her keys, with a questioning look.

"Will you be home for lunch, Carson?"

"Aye, mum. I'm not going far, I might go and see Craig, then just drive up the coast a bit."

Mary Beckett calmed at her son's reassuring tone, and watched from the back door as he drove away.

0o0o0

Carson rang the doorbell. It opened, a little hesitantly, due to the early hour of the day. A lady who looked very like Mary Beckett peered round. The eyes grew wide as she recognised the young, dark haired man on the doorstep. "Carson! Come away in? Are you just yourself?"

"Aye, Auntie Margaret. I'm on my own. Is Craig in?"

"Of course. I'll shout on him. You're home for the weekend, I suppose. How's life in Glasgow? Are you staying for a cuppa?"

"Naw thanks Auntie. I'll not be long. Glasgow's fine."

"Craig! Your cousin Carson is here!" Margaret bellowed up the stairs, and motioned for Carson to go up.

Carson and Craig exchanged greetings and happenings. Craig was going to study Veterinary Medicine in Glasgow in October, and was cramming hard for his coming exams.

"I thought you had an unconditional offer?" Carson asked, knowing Craig's university place was secure already.

"I do. But I always needed to work harder than you, Carson. You're a natural brainiac."

Carson laughed. "Rubbish. You just worry more."

Craig noticed the look on his cousin's face. "Carson, are you OK?"

"Aye. It's just…I've told mum and dad I'm going to leave Glasgow after the summer. I'm not staying. That city's not for me."

Craig stared. "What? Where will you go?"

Carson rolled his eyes, and couldn't help smiling. "There's a whole world out there, Craig. I'm just not wanting to stick around here, that's all."

"You're mum'll be gutted."

"I know. She is." Carson swallowed hard.

As he was leaving his auntie's house, Carson fondled the ears of their cocker spaniel. It was a really daft dog, he thought. Then something else came to mind. "Auntie Margaret, can I take your dog for a walk? I'm going along the coast a bit…"

He figured it might make him look less suspicious…

* * *

**A/N:**

Don't worry, Fanwoman, your help and advice will come in handy soon-ish!

Now off you all go and get your maps out!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Indeed, Vilya, haven't written that bit yet, though, bit scary!

* * *

** Chapter 3 **

Carson parked the car, and walked along the shore for a while, letting the spaniel loose to splash in the freezing water. The mist was shrouding the green shoreline across the Gare Loch, and dampness clung to Carson's face. As he watched the dog bark at seaweed, he wondered what he was actually doing here at all. Slipping the lead back on, he dragged the bouncing dog back up to the road.

Carson soon found himself walking slowly past the tents and makeshift shelters making up the peace camp. Colourful banners and flags reminded him of why they were here, the symbols and slogans blending into the haphazard settlement. A young woman carrying a water container stared at him briefly. Carson felt out of place in his jeans and Gore-tex jacket. There weren't many hippies in Glasgow, he contemplated wryly. Then he saw a young man sitting outside a shelter, smoking a roll-up contentedly in the chill morning. Carson thought he recognised the face. The man caught sight of Carson, and the flicker of recognition was mirrored. He stood, and sauntered across.

"Carson Beckett?" he asked. The young man had dreadlocks, but was clean-shaven.

Carson had lost his feeling of intimidation as he realised who this was. "Ian? Ian Kelso?"

They both smiled and laughed, remembering their shared school connection.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ian laughed. "I thought you were a doctor in Glasgow?"

"I am." Carson replied. "I'm home for the weekend. It must be…what…five years since I've seen you. I just thought…I wanted to see…"

"Oh, jings, Carson, you're a bit young for a mid-life crisis." Again the laughter. "Come and have a cuppa. You can tell me what's going on in the big smoke."

Ian led Carson through the camp, the spaniel sniffing and panting excitedly. Carson tied the lead to a branch as they settled outside Ian's tent.

"Really, Carson. What on earth brings you here?"

"I don't know, Ian. I'm just doing some thinking. I'm going to leave Glasgow, move away. The family's not happy. But I hate it there now. I'm not into all that career competition rubbish."

"Good for you Carson. There's a socialist heart in you somewhere."

"Ach, I'm just not cut out for city life, maybes. I might go into research or something." Despite the passing of years, Carson felt strangely comfortable discussing these incongruous subjects with Ian, outside a tent on the Loch shore. He watched as Ian sorted the hot drinks for them.

"My mum said you'd done a degree inside your medical course. Are you as brainy as you were at school then?" Ian handed Carson a mug of steaming tea.

Carson smiled shyly. "Don't! Your results were as good as mine. I did a year out, did a masters in genetics. Fat lot of bloody good that'll ever be!"

"Well, here we both are. What's life really about, Carson? Especially when we are destroying the planet. Genetics might save us if that bloody lot cock up." Ian jerked his head in the direction of the naval base.

Carson could just see a large dark wall and barbed wire in the far distance. He'd never really thought about the naval base much. It was just there. It wasn't an issue to him; having nuclear submarines wandering up and down the river in view of his home was how it had always been. But now…everything was an issue to Carson. Work, life, the future, the world. He didn't know how to distil it into something manageable.

Ian broke Carson's train of thought. He spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. "You'll find something. Something worthwhile. Something that makes a difference. I did. You didn't think I'd still be here, did you? Stop here for a couple of years after school, then find a real life. Well, real life is here, now. OK, so I followed Sharon Menzies here in the first place. Thought it would impress her. She was only here four months. Lightweight."

Carson grinned, and shook his head, eyes twinkling. "You're right, I never thought it. But if you're happy, that's what counts."

"Too right, pal. That's what counts."

They shared some memories of other school friends, and laughed remembering some funny thing or other. After a while, the two men stood, and shook hands. Dragging the dog behind him, Carson headed back. He had seen what it meant to find the right path, he just wasn't sure where his lay yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

The 'ow in 'gowk' rhymes with 'now' !

BMJ- British Medical Journal

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Stuart and Carson dawdled along behind the entourage that was their morning 'ward round' with the Consultant.

"You went where?" Stuart was incredulous.

"The peace camp, you know, they live there, and just, remind everyone about the nuclear submarines," Carson was feeling good about his weekend.

"I know what it is, you daft gowk. What I meant was, what were you doing there?" Stuart hissed.

"There was a bloke I went to school with. We had a good blether. He's been there about seven years. Amazing."

"Soft in the head, if you ask me. Anyway, I've got something for you. You might find it interesting, considering what you just told me…" Stuart grinned.

"What is it?" Carson whispered.

The strong voice of the Consultant broke their intimate conversation. "If you don't mind, gentlemen, I believe we have some patients to see." Dr Walker peered at them over his glasses and raised an eyebrow. "You are with us, are you not?"

The junior doctors sniggered as they watched Carson and Stuart snap back to the matters in hand. It wasn't to be until the end of the day that Carson managed to track down Stuart alone.

0o0o0

"Come on, Stuart. I can't bear the waiting. Show me." Carson begged his friend.

"Aye, OK, but let's get down the pub first."

"It's Monday."

"So? You'll need a drink."

0o0o0

There were only a few locals propping up the bar, as Carson and Stuart ordered their pints. The smoke lay heavy in the air, fuelled by the weekend throngs. Cradling their glasses, the two young men settled themselves in a quiet corner. Football highlights were muttering away on the television at the far side of the bar.

Stuart unfolded the piece of paper that he had drawn from his jacket pocket. He smoothed it out on the table in front of them. Carson put down his pint and wiped the sides of his mouth, peering at the page torn from a journal. He looked into Stuart's smiling face.

"It's the jobs, from the BMJ. Check this out." Stuart pointed to a small box near the bottom of the page. Carson could see the British flag in the corner of the white naval ensign dominating the advert.

Carson read, "Royal Navy. New Entry Medical Officer's Course. Anything's possible with a career in the Royal Navy. The Team Works." He looked at Stuart with a quizzical, amused look.

"I thought you might like to, you know, do something different." Stuart said, almost shyly. "You might even end up in Faslane, you know, close to home."

Carson grinned. "You're a real pal, Stuart. I appreciate it, I really do." Carson tried to be gracious, it wasn't hard. "It might be just what I'm looking for."

0o0o0

"The navy?" Mary Beckett looked grey.

Magnus Beckett pursed his lips. "Are you serious?"

Carson thought his father almost looked angry, but didn't understand why. "It's a chance to see a bit of the world. Do something interesting, challenging, and useful. You start off in Dartmouth for a bit anyway." He couldn't really hide the hint of uncertainty in his own voice. He didn't actually know very much about how it would pan out, yet.

"That's an awfully long way, sweetheart," his mother tried to reason, "I'd hate to think of your down there, all on your own." It was almost as far as you could go before falling off the end of Britain.

"Mum. I'm just going to find out about it. They don't take anybody on for another couple of months. Just, let me find out about it, please." Carson did something he'd never done before. He left his parents sitting there, and went upstairs to his room, without a backward glance. He didn't trust himself to keep his temper. He knew his parents wanted the best for him, but they'd always kept him close. Now it felt too close. He could hear them down there, talking about it, his mum strained and anxious, his father gruff and brusque.

* * *

**A/N: **

Thanks to Fanwoman on some military/civilian canon. It's more likely that Carson was never in the military, but hey, Scotland is awash with uniforms! Besides, James Bond was a Scottish Naval Commander for many years ;-)

I also figured, like Emma (thanks for the review, you're giving the whole game away! LOL), that it would be one of the few ways that anyone would maintain field skills whilst being a research genius. It would make sense to me if Carson had a wee spell years ago. More detail to follow…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

Hello Fanwoman, sorry, I had to do this! Hope you enjoy, you may get more chances to give Carson big hugs ;-)

Thanks for all the brilliant reviews, I knew it was a good idea to start posting, you guys are really fuelling the end of the story – thanks! It's OK, Emma, I need the inspiration! Hello McRaider, I can't wait to post the final chapters I can tell you! Special thanks to everyone who has put me on Author Alert.

Remember, the 'ow in 'gowk' rhymes with 'now'!

NEMO - New Entry Medical Officer

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Welcome, Doctor. It's a pleasure to have you as a NEMO." The silver-haired Commodore shook his hand. "Or should I say sub-lieutenant?" he smiled.

Carson had found the last few days a whirl. Saying cheerio to all the family, aunties, uncles, cousins, and a tearful farewell to his mum and dad. Stuart Hogg had seen him off in Glasgow. ("_Keep your nose clean, you daft gowk_.") It was a long train journey south before he found himself on the busy Devon coast.

The Naval College looked down over the bay, and Carson felt vaguely at home, only the wind was warm, and the sky seemed bluer. He had barely time to look at the sky with the incredible intense rush of the first day; he thought his head was going to explode with all the information he had absorbed about the term ahead. Going back to 'school' was a bit of a shock, but as the new recruits met the College Commodore over dinner, Carson realised he had enjoyed the day.

Looking around he watched the faces of the people he had met for the first time today. A dozen men and two women from all over the UK who were already qualified doctors. They were eager, excited, and all a little shell-shocked. Seven weeks of fascinating training, some physical, mostly academic, stretched ahead. He knew he was going to like this.

0o0o0

Carson lifted his head out of the mud. The cold had penetrated his bones, and the rain had plastered his thick black hair to his scalp. He opened his mouth wide to gasp for oxygen, and the thin mud was oozing over his lips.

"Get a bloody move on, you pathetic worm!"

It felt like the Marine officer was hollering directly into his ear, but Carson could see him from the corner of his eye, standing a few feet ahead, looking down at him. Suddenly he felt a hand under his armpit, and he managed to struggle to his feet. The hand encouraged him to begin jogging again. Carson searched for the face of his helper.

"Thanks." It was all he could muster under the circumstances.

His fellow trainee officer smiled through the constant drizzle. "You're welcome, Carson."

Mark Foster was of similar build to Carson, but had a penchant for sport and was therefore much better suited to the rigorous exercises during the basic training. A mild-mannered Yorkshire man, he and Carson had gravitated together in the past few weeks, since the other recruits were all from the southern half of Britain.

"I'm dying, Mark." Carson managed to splutter, before they had gone another kilometre.

"Just a little farther, Carson. And get a move on, lad, they're timing us this week." Mark gave Carson an encouraging hand on the back, and somehow they made it to the rendezvous point.

As they sipped at the hot sweet tea that was waiting for them, rain was falling hard on their heads. They were standing behind the support vehicle, to wait for the latecomers.

Carson was seriously wondering what he was doing here. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this life after all. Different, yes. Gruelling, understatement. Three recruits had already left, unable to take the long days and pace of the physical exertion. Carson loved the academic training. Emergency medicine, deep-sea principals, radiation theory, it was all absorbed eagerly. It was just, he wasn't really appreciating some of the other stuff. Swimming was OK, but the boats were a bit small for his liking so far. The runs were hard, but on reflection the survival exercises and making the bridges and so on had been quite good fun. It wasn't half so cold as home, either. He actually liked polishing his boots. As he tipped his mug to drain the contents into his throat, Carson decided he was going to make it through, and be a naval doctor, of some description.

**_Seven weeks later…_**

Mark Foster came through the door with a large grin on his face. He waved the paper at Carson. "I got Commando! I'm going to Lympstone!"

Carson knew that Mark had wanted just that for his post-training appointment. Mark had the physique and the stamina needed to be a commando, and most importantly the inclination. It was the toughest medical appointment Carson could imagine, and he silently thanked his lucky stars that they hadn't given the same to him, as a cruel joke. The last thing he could ever see himself doing was being a field medic.

Carson gave his friend a thump on the shoulder. "Well done, pal. You deserve it. I'll tell you something though, I'm going to miss you." He held Mark's gaze for a moment. The team works. Carson had found that to be true in the past couple of months.

"Get away, you softie. You'll be too busy at the Institute to bother about me. You've got the brains all right."

Carson's appointment for the next three years was going to be at the Institute of Naval Medicine, still on the southern coast of the UK. He couldn't wait to get started, and was secretly grateful that he hadn't actually been assigned to a submarine, even if he would have been based close to home.

Right now, there were parties to be arranged. It would soon be Christmas, when the recruits all got to go home, and spend time with families, before embarking upon the reality of their new careers.

0o0o0

"You've made us very proud, Carson. Well done." Magnus Beckett raised his glass in a toast to his son.

"Yes, well done, my wee man." Mary Beckett smiled at her son, and patted his back as she brought the last of the food to the table. She then sat down, only to stand up again to remove her apron.

Carson exchanged amused looks with his father. "Just get sat down, Mum, the turkey will be cold."

Soon the Christmas dinner was well under way. His parents were making the most of this time with him, Carson realised. It had been hard on all three of them, during his training, his absence from home. But he'd found something in the Navy that had been sadly lacking in the city. He had found purpose, camaraderie, satisfaction. He was glad he had left, even though it hurt to think his parents missed him so much.

"It's a lot easier to get leave when you're at the Institute." Carson ventured. "Mark might not get home for four months or more. It's like that when you're a Commando."

"Maybe you could come home for Dad's 60th birthday?" his mum asked hopefully.

"I can certainly try." Carson smiled warmly.

His dad was embarrassed, but felt the glow inside as well as on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

Sorry about this first bit, we are talking about Carson, after all. Hope I don't lose you all, there won't be any more like this!

**If you object to the use of animals in scientific research, please don't read this chapter.**

There's no detail, just suggestion, but I don't want to spoil your breakfast. You won't miss much, honestly. If you do read this, remember, THIS IS FICTION, I know nothing about naval research!

As it's Talk Like a Pirate Day tomorrow, imagine the guy behind the door talks a little bit like a pirate…

Lift - elevator (duh!)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Carson stepped into the lift and pressed the top button, marked Sixth Floor. He whistled to himself as it rose smoothly, digital numbers changing slowly. With a 'ping', the doors opened, and he exited, swinging round to the right. He quickly reached a plain door, and pushed through. The stairwell led up, and after two small flights he was out into a long corridor. Ambling along, he eventually faced an imposing door blocking the way. There was a small bell button down on his right, which he pressed.

He heard the familiar limping, shuffling sound of someone approaching from the other side. There was a loud snap as the small metal hatch in the door was thrown aside. Carson peered through, seeing the eyes on the other side looking up at him.

A deeply Bristol-accented voice muttered at Carson, "How many do you want today, Lieutenant?"

"Just the one, Kenny. Just the one."

The hatch slid shut fast. The shuffling started up again and then got faint. Then nothing, no sound. Carson waited. Then there came the loud metallic clang. It always made him jump, and he had never known what made it. He never asked. The shuffling returned. The hatch slid back, the eyes looked again, and then the door opened with loud clunks. The small man inside handed Carson a large thick yellow plastic bag, tied closed with red tape. Without a word, the door slammed shut.

"Cheers, Kenny." Carson yelled. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Carson turned and walked back down the corridor, through the door, and down the stairs. Once back in the lift, he placed his hand under the bag to support it. The warmth of the rat was always disturbing.

Back in the lab, Carson deposited the bag on the surface, and gathered some equipment.

"Hey, Beckett, have you got the mitochondria yet?" Carson's supervisor was Commander Rob Davis. He was the Senior Registrar in Radiation Medicine. Carson liked his laid back style, it had made a great change from basic training. The past year had been Carson's dream. Research, published papers, conferences in Paris and Rome. Working with Davis was a bonus. He was a stocky, dark, Welshman, who had guided Carson well.

"Not, yet, sir. Just preparing now."

"Well, don't start now, boyo. It'll have to wait. The Commodore wants to see us." Davis winked at Carson.

Puzzled, but picking up the excitement in his voice, Carson put down his scalpel. "What's up, sir?"

"You'll see. Come on."

0o0o0

"That's right, Lieutenant. Six months at the leading radiation research facility in Texas. Commander Davis here has been invited, and he thinks you would be an excellent addition to the secondment. You'll be sharing our expertise, but also participating in various programmes they have there. Like us, they work in the hyperbaric and aerospace fields. It's Air Force led, but I'm sure you won't let that put you off." The Commodore smiled broadly. "What do you say?"

"I…that sounds amazing, Commodore. I don't know what to say, I mean, it would be an honour, Commodore."

"Great." The giant, grey-haired man in charge of the Institute rose slowly to his feet. "You're a credit to us, Lieutenant. You'll go far." He held out his hand for Carson to shake.

Carson and Davis left the office of the Commodore, and headed back to the lab.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Carson asked.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. You're pleased aren't you?" Davis was the one who was surprised, he thought Beckett would have no qualms, but the younger officer was distinctly nervous.

"Oh, aye. I am." Carson's voice was not as sure as his words. "It's just, well…nothing. I can't wait, really"

Davis recognised the anxiety. "Thought you'd got as far from home as it was possible to be, eh?" The Welshman remembered Beckett's eagerness to obtain leave for his father's birthday. Not just keen, he had been obsessed. At the time, Davis had wondered if the Navy was right for Beckett. Ties like that could backfire. Davis didn't think Beckett would sign up once the short commission of three years was up anyway, so he'd left it. Leave had been granted, and by all accounts a good time had been had by all. Beckett came back happy, Davis was happy. Those doubts about the Scotsman had almost been forgotten.

Carson sighed. "Sir, I…I suppose that's true. My parents weren't just all that thrilled when I joined up. And if I'm honest, I miss them. But the work here…I love it. I really want to be here. But America…now that's a long way from the Clyde." Carson forced a smile.

"Indeed it is boyo. But it's only six months. I've a feeling we'll be so busy we won't know we've left before we're home."

Carson hoped Davis was right.

* * *

A/N: Will Carson stay in the Navy? Find out tomorrow...? 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day everyone! Avast ye!

Sorry McRaider, need to keep pushing through the years! But his foray into America will not be forgotten. I've covered less than four years so far! And not to worry, the next eight years will be dealt with a lot more quickly!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Rob Davis turned to look at Carson as he washed his hands. He swallowed, uncertain of what the answer would be to his question. "So…tell me…are you going to stay on in the Navy?" He thought he'd achieved nonchalance.

Carson shut the cabinet, and faced his senior officer. "Do you think I should?"

Davis hadn't expected that. "You have an aptitude for research and statistics."

Carson wrapped his arms over his chest. "That's not all the navy is for. If I stay on I'll have to take a field appointment."

"True." Davis thought furiously. "I think you can handle it…I did." He rubbed his hands briskly with the towel.

Carson gave a rueful smile. "What if I can't?"

"Then they'll kick you out faster than a cruise missile, boyo. Listen, Beckett, three years in an Institute is no substitute for caring for the sick."

Carson recognised a need in him that Davis must once have dealt with. He missed taking that hand, giving that comfort. "Two and a half years. Plus six months in that bloody hot Texas," he corrected.

"Good though, wasn't it?" Davis smiled, and Carson's face mirrored his.

Davis pushed him. "You need to heal people, Carson."

His supervisor had never called him by his first name before, Carson thought. "Aye. I miss that side of things, sir. But…if I stay in the Navy it's not little old ladies I'll be dealing with, it's blood and guts and limbs."

Davis saw the fear in the younger man's eyes. "We need you out there, Carson. Those boys need you." They stared at each other.

Carson swallowed hard. "I know."

0o0o0

"Happy Birthday, Mum." Carson kissed her on the cheek, and gave her a solid hug.

With tears in her eyes, Mary grasped his arms. "You said you wouldnae make it home! How did you manage?"

"I made it for Dad's. I had to make it for yours." His mum was sixty, today.

Magnus Beckett appeared, carrying Carson's bags.

"Here, Dad. You should've left them for me." Carson grabbed the holdall out of his father's hand. He could see his dad getting weaker as the years went on. Just little things, it was only natural. Couldn't expect him to run a marathon any more, he supposed.

Over the obligatory tea and biscuits, Carson recounted his latest tales from the Institute. His parents could see his happiness in his position, but they were aware that the commission was fast approaching its conclusion.

When there was a pause in the conversation, Magnus was blunt. "Right, son. Just tell us. Are you staying on?"

Carson put his mug down. He sighed. Mary Beckett glanced at her husband anxiously.

"It scares me, right enough, Dad, Mum. I've loved doing the research. I can see me in a lab again one day. But I've decided to sign on for a two-year extension. I'll get a ship, maybe, a submarine, even. I could take a shore position, in one of the hospitals, but, to be honest, I want to get to sea." He actually smiled, he couldn't help it. "I've spent all my life watching those boats sail up and down the Clyde. It's about time I got on board."

Mary and Magnus raised eyebrows at each other. It was what they had expected.

"Fair enough, son. Fair enough."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**

This chapter pays tribute to the efforts of the Royal Navy assisting the people of Central America during the events of Hurricane Mitch in 1997/98. Other than the name of the hurricane and some description of the ship, this is entirely fictional. Recent events show us that one thing we learn from history is that we don't learn from history.

Not yet, Emma, not quite yet (but thanks for the nudge, I tried my best, you'll see)!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Carson snapped the first aid kit back into its wall mount, and made a few notes on his pad. As he left the bridge, he passed a young lieutenant looking at a computer screen. There seemed to be a huge purple splodge covering one side of the display. He stood, transfixed, as the colourful swirl twitched menacingly.

"What the hell is that, son?" he asked, allowing his feeling of dread to be heard.

"It's a tropical storm, sir." The officer removed his headset and swivelled to face Carson. "It's about a hundred miles due west of our current position. I believe they have called it 'Mitch'."

"Holy crap. Why do they have to name these bloody things? You're telling me it's a hurricane? Why has no-one told me, yet?" Anger kicked out the fear.

"It's not a hurricane yet, sir. I believe the forecast is due to be updated at 1800 hours. The Captain is likely to inform you at tomorrow morning's briefing if we expect trouble."

"Oh. Right. It doesn't look good though, does it?" Carson was little appeased.

"I don't believe so, sir, no." The headset was put back on, and he turned back to his station.

0o0o0

After almost a year serving on board this new assault-class helicopter carrier, Carson had settled well into a life at sea. It was an excellent appointment. He figured his lack of recent experience was the reason for being assigned to the yet-to-be-named vessel. Less prestige, not yet battle-hardened. Just nice easy trips to break her in. Like an extended training voyage. Once she'd had the champagne cracked against her side, he could see a higher-ranking medic stepping in to take their rightful place. Right now, however, HMS potentially-Ocean was his. Surgeon Lieutenant Commander Beckett, only 30 years old, with responsibility for looking after this crew of 350 Navy and Marine crewmen and women. Sheer madness, he thought.

Not being sent to active hotspots didn't mean that Carson hadn't had his work cut out. A green crew meant one too many trips down stairwells, and more than average seasickness. He'd had to deal with a reasonable quantity of surgery, namely one appendicitis, and a dental extraction. It made him glad he'd had a brief spell in surgery at Plymouth before they sent him off. Here he had a good team of technicians, and he had found his stride quickly. He enjoyed being in charge in the infirmary, and found he had good standing with the Captain.

What he'd seen on that screen now worried him. Hurricanes were bad news, he knew that much. Could the ship handle it? Could the crew handle it? He hoped the Captain would have the good sense to turn tail and steam back across the Atlantic.

0o0o0

"Well, that's it, gentlemen. They expect it to travel down through Central America over the next week. We have no indication of likely damage, but it's not looking good." The tall, slim Captain paced in the wardroom as he spoke. The senior officers, including Carson as Principal Medical Officer, were ranged around the table, all faces grim.

"We've been asked to stand by to assist the local authorities. It's probable that we could be involved in a relief effort before very long. I know we weren't expecting to have to deal with anything like this, but it's happening, and we are closer than anyone else, so let's make it happen. Let's do our best."

Colonel Miller was the senior Royal Marine Commando on board. He stood up. "Captain, I know this vessel hasn't even begun sea trials yet. But…my men will be ready, and I know the rest of the crew will all pull their weight."

0o0o0

Carson called one of his medical assistants with an air of urgency, "Jack, come with me. Anderson is bringing in wounded. He'll be landing in a few minutes. Ben's bringing the stretchers." Carson continued barking orders to the crew around him as they prepared the infirmary.

Grabbing his case, he jogged up the stairs, followed by his team. Bracing themselves, they stepped out onto the flight deck, the strong wind made standing a struggle.

They searched the dark sky for the helicopter. The deck crewman pointed as he spotted the lights. The huge grey beast thundered towards them, bearing down on the deck, as the aircraft handler tried to guide him in. The wind was making it difficult for the helicopter to manoeuvre, the crew on the deck watched as it swung wildly, unable to stabilise for a landing.

"Oh Lord." Carson cried under his breath, as the handler dived to one side when the helicopter veered without warning. The pilot managed to pull the helicopter back from the deck, but the wind was still buffeting the aircraft.

"He's not going to be able to land." Jack yelled to Carson. Carson turned to reply, when suddenly the huge helicopter crashed heavily down onto the deck, almost nose first. The noise was deafening as the metal scraped and crunched onto the landing area. Aircraft handlers swarmed around the craft, securing the ditched monster, flat on its belly in front of them, huge blades whirring without sign of stopping. Carson ran forward, and a handler stood aside to let him enter the body of the helicopter.

The next hour was a complete blur to Carson. He had a pilot with concussion and a broken ankle, a co-pilot with lacerations and knee bruising, two crewmen with assorted cuts and bruises, plus the four terrified passengers, who now had bruising to add to their variety of compound fractures, head injuries and various wounds. It was down to Carson to assess the situation and direct his team to get everyone stabilised and into the infirmary as fast as possible. Seeing the fear in the eyes of his young technicians, he stayed cool and authoritative, giving them the clear direction they needed to stay focussed. He never quite knew how they did it, but he suspected adrenaline had a lot to do with it. Oh, and The Team Works.

* * *

A/N: Past half-way now! Thanks for reading, really appreciate everyone popping by! Big question now - what's he going to do next? He's got years before he goes to Antarctica! And what about his family? What are they up to? (Brace yourself Vilya.) 


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:**

Just so you know, having fuelled myself with a haggis supper on Monday, and Stovies on Tuesday, all washed down each night with Irn Bru (I kid you not, and it wasn't even deliberate, I must be subconsciously getting into this a bit much) I have virtually completed the whole thing, and I can't wait to post the last few chapters…

This is already about six times longer than anything else I've ever done. So keep it coming Emma and everyone else, I need all the help I can get!

I'll shut up now.

**Glossary:**

HDU - high dependency unit, not quite ITU.

Red rings – Royal Navy Medical Officers can be identified by the red rings around the sleeve between the yellow ranking rings on the uniform.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"Carson, oh, sweetheart!" his mother's voice was heartbroken and she sobbed desperately.

"Mum!" Carson almost shouted down the phone. "What's happened?"

Carson heard another voice on the line.

"Let me, auntie. Here, it's OK…Carson?"

Carson's heart was thumping out of his ribcage, his mouth dry as sandpaper. "Craig?"

"Carson, God, man, I'm so sorry. It's your dad." His cousin sounded drained.

Carson swallowed painfully. "What's happened?" he repeated lamely.

"Stroke, Carson. It's awful bad. He's in the Southern. Last night. My mum went up with Auntie Mary. I just brought them back."

"Oh Lord. What am I going to do?"

Craig knew it was a rhetorical question. "I don't know what you can do, Carson. He's in the HDU. The Consultant doesn't expect him to regain consciousness. I'm so sorry, man."

Carson took a moment to gather himself. "Listen. Thanks, Craig. I appreciate you being there for them. I'll…see what I can do. I might be able to swing something. Give mum a hug for me will you? I'll call later if I can."

"You've got it, Carson."

Carson slowly replaced the sat-phone, and leaned against the bulkhead, shutting his eyes.

0o0o0

Carson walked down the gangway, but stopped halfway. He turned, looking back at the perfectly proportioned ship. She was beautiful to Carson, and the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. He hoisted his pack further up his shoulder and made it down onto the pier. He could see some of the crew, miles ahead, shouting and laughing as they headed ashore. For them, it was a chance to let their hair down for a few days. For Carson, it was the end.

The wiry young man with red hair was running back from the main group towards him. "Come on, boss. We need to send you off proper, like. You are coming to the pub first aren't you?"

"Sorry, Jack. I can't face it. I'm just going home."

"But…so that's why you said goodbye already?" Jack's face was fallen.

Carson nodded sadly. "I'll miss you all. We were good, weren't we?"

Jack grinned. "The best, mate. Friggin' best. Come and see us sometime…" he called over his shoulder as he turned and ran to catch up the others.

After his dad's funeral, Carson had given notice that he would not renew his commission. He wanted to be at home with his mum, but there was a small part of him that knew he would be transferred from Ocean after the naming ceremony this weekend. Some Commander would be brought in to take his place now she was preparing for her trials programme. That might break his heart too. He'd done his bit, earned his red rings. Now it was time to go home.

Carson had to wait for another hour before he could board the train that would take him in the opposite direction from the way he wanted to go. He could then get off in Lancaster, and get the train that would carry him all the way to Glasgow. No wonder the Navy likes Barrow, he thought, wryly. No-one in their right mind would bother to try to get there just to cause trouble. He used some of his waiting time wondering how they had persuaded the Queen to go to the trouble of getting there for the naming ceremony. The Captain had been disappointed that Carson had not stayed for the big day.

"_One more day, Lieutenant. Won't you stay?"_

"_I can't sir. Even if I renew, I won't get to stay. You know that. I can't face it."_

"_Mmm. I'm not so sure Ocean will be mine much longer. It's a bloody shame."_

"_Thank you sir, for everything."_

"_It was a pleasure, Carson."_

0o0o0

It was dark by the time Carson reached the house. When he actually had to use his key to get in, he was beginning to worry a little. He rushed through to the living room, and found his mother fast asleep in the armchair by the fire. He smiled in relief at the peaceful sight. It was only ten o'clock, but waiting up had obviously been too much for her. Carson got a blanket from her bed and tucked her in, before heading for the kitchen to satisfy his growling stomach. As he busied himself making a sandwich, he couldn't help feeling the emptiness in the house. Being home hurt more than he had thought, but he knew he was in the right place.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**

BMJ – British Medical Journal, but you've got to call it the BMJ.

MOD – Ministry of Defence

* * *

**Chapter 10**

"Carson, just leave it alone. I'll do it!" Mary Beckett snapped at her son.

Carson's face fell. "I'm only trying to help, Mum."

She grabbed the mangled lump of pastry from his hand. "Light hands, son. Heaven knows how you ever made a surgeon! Just, away and find something else to do! Get a job!" Mary clapped her hand over her mouth as she realised what she had said. She watched her son flinch, and blink hard. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didnae mean it like that. I'm glad you're here, I…"

"Naw, you're right, Mum. I'm not exactly needed here now. I'm just getting in your road." He sighed. "Maybe I'll make a cup of tea for us both, eh?"

Carson had been at home for nine months, and hadn't thought much about what he would do with his future. He'd just wanted to be with his mum. Without Magnus, Mary had been lost at first, but in recent days, Carson found her more able to talk, to laugh, and the tears came less often. His feelings were still a little raw, the guilt of being away, the loss of the father who meant more than he could express. But the time had come, and he needed to get his life back on track.

0o0o0

Carson flicked through the back of the BMJ listlessly.

"Nothing exciting, sweetheart?" asked his mum, glancing up from her knitting.

Carson sighed. "How can anything be remotely as exciting as the Navy?" he asked. "I might as well just stick a pin in the paper."

The telephone rang insistently. "Who can that be?" Mary asked, and got up to go into the hall.

Her head popped round the doorframe. "It's for you, Carson. A Commander Davis?"

Puzzled, Carson stood and made to talk the handset. "Hello?"

"_Carson. How are you? How's Civvie Street?"_

"Fine, sir. I…It's great to hear your voice, sir."

_"Yes, well, I'm calling because I wondered if you might be looking for an interesting change of career. I know you left at the beginning of the year. You might be ready for a job I just heard about."_

"Oh. Well…I…What's the job?" Carson was extremely puzzled now.

_"I've got this friend, see. He runs a lab that does a good deal of work for the MOD. Radiation, chemical warfare, genetics, right up your street, Carson. He needs an extra pair of hands, and he's in your neck of the woods. Would you be interested?"_

"Sounds good. Where is it? Aberdeen?" Carson ruffled his hand through his hair. He could hear Davis chuckling.

_"Thing is, it's a bit out of the way…you won't believe, Carson. It's actually in the middle of nowhere, out on Ardnamurchan. Not exactly advertised."_

Carson was now intrigued and eager to learn more. "Go on."

_"Like I say, MOD research, but privately run. You may have heard of the guy – Professor Charles Aston. Good man."_

"Aston? Pioneer work with DNA probes? I thought he was in the Wellcome team in Cambridge?

_"Yes, well, most of them thought so too, but he's actually up there. It's an interesting location. Only thing is, you have to cover weekend shifts and holidays for the surgeon at the Belford."_

"Fort William? The General Hospital in Fort William?" Carson was incredulous. He knew of it from his walking trips to Ben Nevis and Glencoe.

_"Yes, boyo. The poor Consultants there have no one else to call on. I know there are only two wards. But they get a lot of climbing casualties. It won't all be chest infections." _Davis chuckled again. _"They get holiday cover, and ask no questions. My friend likes to use ex-military. The right experience, no loose tongues."_

Carson realised why people mulled over conspiracy theories. With telephone calls like this, you didn't have to invent them. "Well, it sounds fascinating, right enough."

_"Right, I'll take that as interested then. Details are coming by courier. You can take a look round the facility next week."_

0o0o0

Carson couldn't think of a worse time of year to visit Ardnamurchan, a wild and desolate peninsula on the west coast of Scotland. There was a howling gale, and the sleet was challenging his windscreen wipers determinedly. Carson had left Fort William two hours ago; he'd only passed three other cars, and had still not reached his destination. He couldn't believe a state-of-the-art research facility was along this single-track road. As the road came over a rise, he could see down to the sea, but no farther, as the mist shrouded the coast. He checked his instructions, knowing he was close. There it was, a track, leading over the hills on his left, unmarked, but with a red post-box standing sentry on the corner. With relief, he turned down the track, and drove slowly up the hill.

Barely two hundred yards farther on, the track came down into a deep valley, and Carson could see structures ahead, mostly green and grey. As the car bumped down towards the complex, he peered around him through the rain. There was a large, long, low building, with a few separate huts nearby. Several communication aerials and satellite dishes adorned one small hut. A large flat, clear area over to the right had a huge 'H' marked on the ground. Hard standing near the largest building had a few cars parked on it. He pulled up alongside.

Taking a deep breath, he zipped up his coat and pulled his hood over his head. He pushed the car door open and held on to it to prevent it being torn off by the wind. He leapt out, locked up quick, and jogged over to what appeared to be the main entrance. It was open, and he slipped in as quickly as possible to keep the gale outside.

The tall, bearded man, greying a little at the temples, watched as Carson removed his jacket and wiped the rain from his face. He wore a green woollen sweater and mustard-coloured cord trousers. His hand stretched out to welcome the newcomer.

"Carson Beckett? I'm Charles Aston." There seemed no discernible accent to his voice, other than the fact it was English.

Carson looked into the friendly, smiling face, and offered his own, damp hand. "Pleased to be here, sir."

0o0o0

Carson had taken to wearing the warm clothing in natural colours favoured by the other scientists at the facility. His own beard was taking shape nicely, he thought. Life here on the peninsula was a bizarre mix. The local people treated the secret facility with amused indifference. All the supplies were officially addressed to the Marine Laboratory on the coast, but Andy the Postman seemed to know instinctively what was for Aston's lab, and dropped it off anyway. Strangely though, nobody east of Acharacle seemed to be aware of the facility's existence.

Carson relished his shifts in Fort William. Everyone at Belford Hospital genuinely believed Beckett worked at the Marine lab. The hospital itself was a pretty ugly building, but everyone inside was wonderful. He'd met the Medical and Surgical Consultants. The two men were big-hearted and eager to point out to Carson the family ethos of the place. Carson got used to the big yellow helicopter bringing the casualties off the hills, patching them up, and sending them back to wherever they came from. He enjoyed the unexpected childbirths, and did his best for the regulars. The average age of the nurses must have been fifty, but Carson thought he might pluck up courage to ask out that young physiotherapist one day.

Back in the lab, Carson played his part in Aston's projects for the MOD. He was assigned to genetic defence research, aiming to render the enemy's chemical and biological warfare useless through genetic manipulation of your own population. It was a laid-back, no-deadline life, interspersed with walks on the white sands or the purple heather-covered hills. He even canoed around the coast on occasion. It was a wild and beautiful area, and Carson saw himself there for the rest of his life.

* * *

**A/N:** I loved the Belford. I'll never complain there's nothing on Ardnamurchan again, there really was a Marine lab there.

Quick, someone, rescue him before he becomes a teuchter (stereotype Scot muttering Burns and playing bagpipes, etc.)

I want to get to Atlantis too, coming very soon…


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:**

Hey McRaider, you're getting me all excited! Only about four more chapters, probably.

I love this chapter, can I say that?

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**- **

The Prime Minister shook the hand of his Minister of Defence, and the two dark-suited men settled in their seats on either side of the highly polished desk.

"Well, what do you think? Should we be involved?" The Prime Minister leaned forward to hear better what the answer might be.

"We certainly don't want to let the Americans control the Stargate programme alone. Getting a foothold in the Antarctica Outpost Expedition is the best we can hope for right now."

"Yes, but, who to send? They want…" the Prime Minister looked down at the papers spread in front of him, all stamped "Top Secret" in bright red ink, "…physicists, chemists, biologists, geneticists, medical staff, nuclear scientists, database engineers, network specialists, programming consultants…How in the world are we going to select four candidates for inclusion in the…assessment process, for pete's sake?"

"Yes…we can't exactly advertise in the Jobcentre, can we?" The Minister of Defence stared at the ceiling.

The Prime Minister took a sip from his cup of tea, and replaced it slowly onto the saucer. "I have an idea…" he stabbed at a button on the intercom. "Judith, get hold of Karen Harris, will you? Tell her it's urgent." He smiled broadly. "She'll do it for us. Good, eh?"

The Minister of Defence let a smile spread across his face. "Oh, yes. She'll find the best. That'll give the Americans something to chew on."

The intercom buzzed. "Yes?"

"I have Ms Harris on the other line, Prime Minister. She says she can fit you in tomorrow afternoon. Will that be all right?"

The Prime Minister rolled his eyes. "Yes, all right, Judith. Get a car to collect her. Let me know when she's coming." He let go of the button. "I suppose that's her way of saying I can't do without her."

"Indeed, Prime Minister. Of course, she's right."

0o0o0

The car bringing the Director General of the Security Service swept up to the front door of Number Ten, Downing Street. The driver opened the shiny black door, and Karen Harris stepped out. The shiny black front door of Number Ten opened as the car door closed, and the immaculately dressed mature woman in charge of MI5 breezed inside.

0o0o0

"So you see, Karen, we don't want anyone else knowing about the programme, but we want to find the best to send to the Americans," explained the Prime Minister.

"The Best." Emphasised the Minister of Defence.

Karen Harris looked at the faces of the two men, and studied the list in front of her. "Four candidates, you say?"

"Yes, each country can make four nominations."

The Minister of Defence added, "We want some of the top jobs, mind."

She smiled at their competitive attitude. "Just leave it to me, gentlemen."

0o0o0

The head of MI5 returned to Downing Street exactly one week later. She greeted the Minister of Defence and the Prime Minister, and laid four files on the desk.

"We know they are taking one British citizen already, a Dr Peter Grodin. He's working with them now, they're transferring him to Antarctica. I'm afraid he will count as one nomination. I have brought you three new candidates."

Once they were all seated, Karen Harris picked up one file and handed it to the Prime Minister.

"This is my best find, gentlemen. Dr Carson Beckett. Reached the rank of Surgeon Lieutenant Commander, in the Navy for 8 years. Came out three years ago, currently a civilian, working in our Defence Genetics Programme."

"Our what?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Never mind, I'll tell you later," said the Minister of Defence, taking the file.

Karen Harris raised her eyebrows as she looked at the two men. "He's got everything they want. Oh, and he's worked with Americans before."

"Won't that put him off?" the two men exchanged glances.

She briefly shut her eyes and took a deep breath, "Like I say, he's one of your top choices."

The Minister of Defence was reading the file in front of him closely. "I'm surprised you didn't, you know, approach him yourselves."

Karen Harris smiled knowingly, "We did consider it, when he left the Navy, but he was categorised as TWH."

"TWH?" The Prime Minister wondered if he needed to take notes for the rest of the meeting.

"Too Warm-Hearted. Not ruthless enough for my purposes," she sighed. "However, we have managed to harness his talents, all be it without his direct knowledge."

"Hey, warm-hearted, that might be a bonus in Antarctica!" The Minister of Defence hoped to get some reaction to his joke, but was to be disappointed.

The Prime Minister waved his hand, "Karen, would you…"

"Yes, Prime Minister. We can approach these three and sell it to them, discretely, of course."

0o0o0

"Who are they taking?" asked the Minister of Defence eagerly, rushing into the office and dispensing with any of the usual formality.

The Prime Minister smiled. "Grodin, as we knew, and Beckett. That's all, I'm afraid." The Prime Minister seemed pleased enough.

"Only two? Bloody Americans. Let me see the full list."

The Prime Minister handed the document over and rested his head against the back of his chair.

A grin appeared on the face of the Minister of Defence. "Well, that's all right, I suppose."

"Thought you'd like it."

"I never complain when we beat the French."

* * *

**-**

**A/N:** Don't worry, we love each other really ;-) Guess he's on his way now. Thanks for sticking around, everyone. Not long now...


	12. Chapter 12

**SPOILERS:** For Rising, at last! And only in the broadest sense.

**A/N: **

RAF – Royal Air Force

RAF Brize Norton is the largest military airbase in the UK, like an airport really.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Carson entered the small room. He'd arrived at RAF Brize Norton by helicopter, having been picked up directly from Ardnamurchan. A young RAF officer had directed him to this room to await his onward flight to New Zealand that would see him one step closer to Antarctica.

He smiled nervously at the other man sitting in the room already. He had dark hair like himself, but with a swarthier complexion, and had a long, pleasant face. They nodded to each other, as Carson sat down opposite him.

The door opened, and an officer, in a peaked hat, eyed them both, "All right gentlemen? I'm just going to get organised, someone will pop back to get you in a few minutes. I hear you're final destination is McMurdo – hope you've remembered your thermals!"

Carson and the other man smiled at each other as the door closed.

"Em, I'm Carson Beckett. I suppose we're going to the same place?"

"Grodin, Peter Grodin. How do you do. It would appear so." Grodin was thoughtful for a moment. He was expecting this additional passenger. "Did you get the visit from MI5?"

Carson grinned. "Aye. Scared the living daylights out of me! Thought they were going to arrest me or something."

"And I hear you were interviewed by General O'Neill himself. You're honoured."

"So I believe. Anyway, sounds like an interesting project. I'm a doctor by the way."

"So am I, but I assume you mean you are a medical doctor?" Peter's eyes twinkled.

"Eh? Oh, right. Yes, medical. You're a proper doctor then?" Carson's voice had a tiny tease in it.

"Absolutely! I'm more of an engineer, amongst other things."

Carson realised the man was not giving any more away, he was used to that. But the slim man with the kind voice did continue.

"I think you'll like working with us. There's never a dull day."

Carson felt some of his nervous anticipation melting. "Right. Good. I like to keep busy."

The door burst open, and a burly airman burst in, rubbing his hands. "OK, gentlemen. Your carriage awaits."

Carson and Peter exchanged excited smiles, and they got up quickly.

0o0o0

He looked over the railing at the blue shaft descending deep into the ice. He looked up at the cable mechanisms, black and menacing above the huge hole. Carson blinked hard, and looked at the petite woman standing next to him. She was wearing a grey and yellow jacket, similar to the one Carson had put on for the first time today, straight from it's polythene wrapper.

"We have to go down there?"

She nodded, smiling. "They're sending the cage up for us. Dr Weir said she'd meet us in the medical area."

He noticed his heart pounding, and swallowed hard. "Right."

He almost jumped when the huge gears above him started up, and cables began roaring in front of him. The cold wind from the coming cage blasted his existing goosebumps.

She undid the restraining gate, and stepped into the cage. "Don't worry, it won't break."

Carson lifted an eyebrow. "Aye, and how can you be so sure? You've never been in a lift with me before, have you?"

The nurse eyed him suspiciously as they got in, but only saw a slightly nervous man that had been extremely pleasant to show around so far. She watched him screw his eyes shut and hold his breath as the cage descended into the depths.

They reached the bottom without a hitch, and the nurse heard her new boss exhale as they stepped down into the main cavern. It caused her to smile. She let him look around in awe, as she had done on her first descent.

"Come on, it's this way." She touched his arm gently, and he looked at her, realising he had been lost for a moment.

"Right lass. Lead on, Macduff." He shrugged off his fear and took on the thrill of the unexplored, his grin broad and genuine.

Carson could hear the shouting as he followed his new colleague through the strange metallic chambers of the outpost.

"When will you people get somebody who actually knows what they are doing?"

The nurse glanced over her shoulder and commented, "Not again! Dr McKay won't leave us alone. He visits every day with some complaint or other. I wish he'd develop a real disease, no, scratch that, I take it back, then we'd have to keep him." She was still muttering as they entered the medical area.

A Canadian with an orange fleece zipped up to his chin was waving his arms at the young man before him.

"Don't you have any glucose tablets, at least?"

"Is there a problem?" Carson deposited his bag in a corner, and approached the pair.

Rodney turned to face the Scotsman who had just arrived, his mouth open in surprise that anyone would interrupt him.

Carson held out his hand, "I'm Doctor Beckett. Can I help?"

Rodney sighed and visibly relaxed, "At last. A doctor. Well, a medic, anyway? Can you tell this…assistant…that I need my blood glucose tested? I might be having a hypo!" As an afterthought, he thrust out his hand and pumped Carson's vigorously.

Carson thought McKay looked distinctly hy_per_, but refrained from saying so.

"It's all right, son, I'll deal with this." Carson gave his new young colleague an excuse to scarper.

Ten minutes later, Carson had a much happier and positively glowing McKay recounting the details of the expedition so far. He enjoyed hearing the enthusiastic astrophysicist explaining the goals and hopes for the Ancient outpost. McKay had a confidence in his pursuit, and it wasn't just the obvious ego. As if he had found something worth working on. Carson was sorry when the fidgeting Canadian declared he had work to do, and disappeared. The Scotsman looked around his new domain, and set about making things ship shape.

* * *

**A/N:** Two chapters to go, can't miss certain significant events before we get to Atlantis, can we...? 


	13. Chapter 13

**SPOILERS:** For Rising. And only in the broadest sense.

**A/N: **Sorry this is a bit later than usual.

This is for you, Steph.

Just a wee insight into the beginning of something special… I might need to write a whole fic around this…no idea about canon…

Sebum – what your skin secretes to keep you waterproof, mainly oils, proteins, and other stuff.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Dr Rodney McKay walked briskly through the chilly corridors of the Antarctica Outpost, drumming a tune with the fingers of one hand on his other fist.

"What did you want to see me for, Carson?" Rodney appeared in the medical area, and proceeded to fiddle with various vials of liquid that stood on Carson's desk.

Carson swiped at Rodney's hand, "Don't touch man, do I have to put a bloody sign up?" He stood up from where he was, behind the desk, and motioned for Rodney to take his place in front of the computer. "Sit down, Rodney, I want to show you something. I've got a wee theory."

Rodney seated himself and looked at the screen and then back at Carson. All he saw were weird lumps and craters; it looked like a greyscale image of Parmesan shavings on top of Bolognese, or something. He licked his lips. "What?"

"You're looking at an electron microscopic magnification of the surface of that piece of metal I took off you yesterday."

"The broken door panel? The one you confiscated from me before I used it to do serious damage to the scientist who stupidly ripped it off the wall?" Rodney was still clearly unhappy his revenge had been denied.

"Yes. When I protected Dr Kavanagh from your wrath, that's right. Anyway, just concentrate for a minute. I was bored. I fiddled with it, and put it in my microscope. I found…the surface of the panel…it has an organic appearance."

Rodney sensed the wonder in Carson's voice and eyes, but wasn't really getting it. "Should I know what comes next?"

"Not really, Rodney. This panel, it has what I am assuming are protein receptors, plus a lot of other interesting structures." Seeing Rodney's blank, strained look, he tried again, "Bottom line, man, and I'm thinking out loud here, this panel must respond to something that your skin is coated with, likely the proteins in sebum. If all the technology works like this, the Ancients built stuff that would activate when you touched it, not through pressure or anything we're used to, but because of your actual chemical presence." Carson's eyes were bright with revelation. "And I can guess why we can't make any of this stuff work – because our proteins aren't compatible. They were aliens, right? Their DNA would be different. Their skin sebum would work this panel, but yours doesn't!"

Rodney got it now. "Carson, you are hereby an honorary genius. But is this for real? We won't work any of this stuff properly unless we figure out how to make Ancient sweat? This cannot be happening." The thought depressed him. It was impossible, surely.

"Not sweat, probably, but essentially, yes, it would appear that way, Rodney. I'm sorry, pal. I mean, the Ancients were supposed to have come to earth how long ago? With genetic variation over the years, it's clear we humans just don't have the same oily skin like we used to."

Carson stepped over to the door at the rear of his medical area. It wasn't on the schedule for opening until the existing chambers had been investigated. For Carson's team it was just their back wall, with equipment piled up in front of it.

"Take this door, for example. If my sebum contained Ancient proteins…" Carson placed his hand firmly on the adjoining panel, and the door promptly opened, allowing some items to tumble out of view. "Holy Crap!"

Rodney leapt up and stared through the open door, then into Carson's terrified face. "Do you think you could do that again?"

There was then a loud bang as something exploded somewhere high up in the door's mechanism. A cloud of acrid smoke drifted down over the two men.

"Nice work Carson," coughed Rodney. "Can you run that sebum thing by me again?"

* * *

A/N: Last chapter up tomorrow sometime...Thanks for popping by everyone! 


	14. Chapter 14

**SPOILERS:** For RISING.

**A/N:** Last chapter!

A little help with a phrase that I think is predominantly Scottish, I'd love to know if it exists elsewhere. It's the "I'll give you…" dressing down. It goes something like this…

"Will you help me wash the car, son?"  
"No, dad, I'm too busy."  
"Busy, I'll give you busy!"

It's a grand phrase, but becomes quite surreal, as here…

"Mum, I need a new bike."  
"Bike! I'll give you bike!"

Anyway, hope you understand…?

Oh dear, I seem to have swiped the motto of the Royal Navy. Hope they don't mind. Oh, crumbs, maybe I'll get a visit from MI5… Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound…

**Glossary:**

'Havering' is talking rubbish, I do it a lot. First syllable pronounced like 'hay'.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Carson fingered the handkerchief that his mum had given him when he went home to say goodbye. He'd slunk off to sit alone for a moment. He just needed to be quiet, among the hubbub of preparation, deep in Cheyenne Mountain. Sitting in the stairwell, he could hear the echoes of his mum, and other friends and loved ones, in his mind, bringing a lump to his throat.

"_I know you can't take anything heavy, sweetheart, I just wanted you to have something to remind you of me, if I might not see you for a while. Maybe it'll help you not to worry. I think you worry more than me, now."_

"_Keep your nose clean, you daft gowk."_

"_Your mum'll be gutted."_

"_Away, you softie."_

"_Those boys need you."_

It was as if his whole life had brought him to this point, this step into another galaxy that he would soon face. He was going to lead the Medical Team. It would be responsible for the health and welfare of 93 people, with only the equipment and supplies they took with them, plus what they could find or make there. Less than a third of the crew of Ocean, but with back-up a galaxy away. To cap it all, he was in the middle of gene therapy development. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply to calm himself.

"_I think you can handle it."_

"_Right up your street, Carson."_

He sensed something, and opened his eyes. A tall, stern-faced Marine was looking at him, very much down on him as he stood a few steps above. He recognised Colonel Sumner, the ranking Marine for the expedition. He was an imposing presence.

"What are you doing here? You do not have clearance for Level 23."

Carson stood quickly and frowned angrily, "Jings man, you gave me a scare. Did you follow me? Have you nothing better to do? Listen, pal, I'll tell you this, no Marine I ever knew skulked around spying on his own team. Anyway, what are you havering on about? Clearance? I'll give you clearance! You're a guest here same as me, you can't go down there either. I'm only in the stairwell, pal. Ach, what's the use?"

Carson pushed past the Colonel and jogged up the stairs. He didn't want to lose his temper more, it wouldn't achieve anything. He'd once held a rank almost as senior as Sumner, and didn't have to take that crap from him, or any other Marine in this scientific expedition. He had work to do anyway.

0o0o0

As soon as the city has risen from the depths of the ocean, Carson had his team prepare the medical areas. With Dr Weir's permission, he had commandeered two large chambers close to the 'gateroom. He set one team to work making an infirmary ready for any casualties, and another laying out the diagnostic and research equipment. He had already stood down the mobile incident team that had been ready to react, if the city shield had begun to collapse. The adrenaline was flowing, and he felt his team gel together well.

He'd heard word of the gateships. Remembering the hologram he had found when they had first arrived, Carson figured this city had many more surprises to come.

The Marines hadn't found a safe haven, but Sergeant Stackhouse had brought him down the severed arm from the enemy they had encountered. Carson had immediately examined it in his makeshift lab. The team worked around him, unpacking what they might imminently need. He had told Weir his preliminary findings, and they weren't pretty.

Carson knew that Major Sheppard was attempting to rescue Colonel Sumner and the others. It was enough to set in motion the procedures to prepare for returning casualties of unknown severity. He had asked Dr Weir if one of the native survivors could provide him with any information as to the likely nature of injury from the newfound enemy. She had informed him that someone called Jinto had told her that he had never known any that had been taken to return, injured or otherwise. That scared the hell out of him, but he set his team to work, to be ready anyway.

0o0o0

Carson gently steered the young Athosian woman from the infirmary and let her rejoin her waiting family. She had been in shock, but he was happy that she was now sufficiently recovered to be released from his tender care. Her warm smile directed at him over her shoulder warmed his heart. She had been the only casualty to return with the Major. Knowing Colonel Sumner did not return, and that an Athosian man had also died, was extremely sobering. He had never actually lost a patient in all his working life. True, those two had not been under his direct care, but it still hurt. He wondered how many more deaths they would suffer in this galaxy, how many he would see die.

As the Athosians left, Rodney McKay appeared at Carson's doorway. Carson's heart sank a little more, wondering what the Canadian was wanting in the way of medical care.

"Come on, Carson. It's party time!" The big lopsided grin was infectious, and Carson succumbed easily.

"You really love this place don't you, Rodney, despite what's happened today?"

"You betcha! OK, sure, I'm sorry about the big fella, but hey, this place is amazing! Wait 'til you see what Peter found!" Rodney was talking so fast, Carson found it hard to keep up.

The two men made their way towards the central balcony area, Rodney continuing to recount his findings at length. As he walked, Carson stared in wonder at the form and structure of the city. Knowing every panel responded to chemical activation did nothing to lessen the impact of the intricate design and colour of every edifice. He'd heard some of the Americans mention a couple of designers that were brought to mind, but he didn't recognise any of them. Personally, he thought it had sympathy with the work of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, and it made him feel quite at home.

They leaned over the balcony, surrounded by many of their peers and newfound friends. The ocean was far below, supporting the huge city structure. Carson breathed deeply, and if he shut his eyes, he might have been on top of the hill overlooking the Clyde. When he opened them, this city was truly an awesome sight. He exchanged excited looks with Rodney, and they made their way to a table loaded with food and drink. Morale booster, Dr Weir had said.

As he and Rodney moved into an open space, Carson looked around him at the happy throng. He watched Rodney take a huge bite from the small kebab, and smiled. This city had grabbed them by the throat, but he felt he belonged, and it felt good. He was a part of something big, and this team was going to work.

-

THE END

* * *

**A/N:**

Special thanks to Fanwoman for the help, Emma for the ideas, Dr Dredd for Highlander Medic, and all the kind words and support from them and PurpleYin, NenyaVilyaNenya, and McRaider.

Thanks to EVERYONE who has reviewed – you are all SO kind and WONDERFUL! I really enjoyed doing this fic, but please, if I ever tell you that a heard a voice in my ear telling me to write a fic that covers 12 years again, remind me that I need to put it in a stew and serve it with hot crusty bread…

Seriously, thank you all, and glad you liked it!


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